The Island of F*cked Up Dreams

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I’d rather be here.

Copyright by proxy, The Tara Chronicles, 2018

Now that Todd is home from an enviable 4-day business trip to Nashville in an amazing hotel, I am sleeping like a log again. It was the longest we’ve been apart in over seven years. Technically we didn’t lay eyes on each other for two days, but had three nights in an empty bed. I don’t sleep when he’s not home. And when he is home, I fall asleep like lightning. I tell him that it’s a compliment because it means I’m totally relaxed and at peace when he’s home.

Sleeping like a log is just a state of the body, for the mind conjures up some real whoppers. Since I hardly slept while he was away, I fell into a deep sleep Saturday night and into a rabbit hole of drama and intrigue that took me through locations and conditions I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

In our house, which looked nothing like our house, there was a kitten that looked identical to Oliver and Veruca was pleading with me to keep it. There was also a baby raccoon in our living room, which I found adorable and had more interest in keeping than the kitten, though I thought I should ask Andy if he wanted it first. (Andy and raccoons: true, long story.)

Anyway, the kitten wasn’t housetrained and it started pooping on the carpet. Veruca ran over to it, saying it was okay, she’d take care of it, and I watched in horror as she pinched off the poop as it was coming out and picked up the kitten. (Which is crazy, right? V is a germaphobe who washes her hands and arms to sandpaper like a surgeon, and worries about a speck of poop on Oliver that doesn’t exist.)

On another note, I keep having these recurring dreams of living in a house that is infested with stray cats. They’re confined to one room that no one lives in and they get in there through a cubby hole that connects to a long tunnel leading out of the house. I followed this tunnel in one dream and it lead to the outside, to a long gulley that in turn lead to a stone springhouse with an old wooden door. These cats scattered like mice when I’d enter the room. I wasn’t afraid of them, but wanted to get rid of them. I asked Todd in one dream if there are “exterminators but not exterminators” who handle cat infestations.

So anyway, back to Saturday night. I lived in a small city – and there was a lot of walking and moving things from place to place. And then suddenly I’m in labor. I’m in labor, but I know that I’m not progressed enough to be admitted so I’m hanging out at home in my apartment and I have no idea where Todd is. I’m breathing through the contractions, and it’s mostly dull pressure through my pelvis, and I’m just walking around stooped over and rubbing my lower back.

And then I woke up. And the discomfort I was feeling in my dream was real. OMG, I had to go to the bathroom. Seriously. The pressure in my bladder translated to labor pain in a dream. I’ve had the labor dream before, where again I couldn’t be admitted yet so I was walking around the lobby until I could. (Don’t remember if that one ended in the bathroom though.)

Next up: Work. I was at work. It was very busy, and this woman with a thick Russian accent walks in. She asks me if she can make an appointment for herself. Her car broke down and she’s stuck here, and just thought she’d find something to do. I explain to her that we are a pediatric office and she would need to go to an adult provider. She asks where one is. Downstairs I tell her, and then she asks for directions.

The next thing I know I’m walking down there while she waits in my office, giving her directions from my cell phone as I go. But her husband has taken over the call, and I’m giving directions to him. He thanks me and, as I’m walking back up to my office, he asks me if Dr. So-and-So is there. I tell him I’m sorry I don’t know which providers are there, that I’d have to google that information which he could just as easily do, and I really have to get back to the patients in my office.

When I get back, I’m sent to wait in the back exam rooms to direct patients – which really means I’m just standing around in an area with no windows and it’s terribly boring and I just want to get back to the front desk. I figure it’s because I’m the newest, and thus relegated to the least desirable tasks first.

Eventually I leave there and walk down the outside hall, and pass a grandmother who mutters something nasty under her breath. I turn back and ask her if there’s something I can help her with. She complains about how long she’s been waiting for her granddaughter to be seen and then, actually there’s FIVE children with her who are scheduled. I offer apologies and tell her I’ll go check the schedule and see what I can do to expedite matters. She apologizes to me for being so nasty and gives me a hug. I go back to the front desk and sit down at my computer, staring at the day’s schedule and not seeing any names. ANY names.

Mildly panicked, I tell Barb I can’t see any names. She is busy and can’t help me; in fact, she’s not even listening to me. I try other workstations and those screens are black and I can’t seem to log in to any of them. And then I notice that it’s getting dark in the office and no one has turned the lights on. I ask Barb where the light switches are, and she just says, “over there. Right there,” as if I have to be stupid not to know where they are. And I’m still asking her about the grandmother who’s waiting in the hall, and she finally tells me that their appointment isn’t until 5:30 and they’re an hour early.

By the time I go to tell grandmom this fact, they’re already being led back to an exam room and I’m off the hook. I go back to the front desk and there’s a handful of moms standing there, and suddenly there’s my DAD – telling a joke and everyone is completely enthralled. And I’m all like, Dad! What are you doing here?! And everyone looks at me like, ssssh!!!

And suddenly, it’s morning.

 

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My Left Foot, His Left Ear, & Other Things

Every morning I drive my two up to the bus stop, and every morning they find something stupid to piss each other off with. Usually it’s Opac pushing V’s buttons at 6:57 a.m. and she – being an already moody child who is also in the ugly grip of adolescence – gets instantly pissy with him, telling him to SHUT UP, loudly. And he, grand-instigator-of-instigating who never misses a beat, says something equally biting back that he knows will set her teapot whistling. And then there’s me, stuck in the ever-shrinking space of the car’s interior rubbing my eyes and envisioning how peaceful it’s going to be when I get back inside the house. EVERY morning.

This morning, though, was peaceful enough… Veruca pointed out that she heard me snoring last night. You did? I said. To which O pointed out that my door was open. I asked if it was loud, and she said no, and then demonstrated.

Yes – I snore. I have sinus issues. And currently on antibiotics for a sinus infection. (More on that later.)

Anyway. V continued to demonstrate the sound I made which, for what it’s worth, wasn’t that bad. Opac, in the back seat, ordered her to stop it – it was making his head hurt worse, because he’s congested. She fired back at him something about being stupid, or who cares, or something like that, and now he’s the pissy one.

I might have said something to him like calm down and, as he was exiting the car, he bitched about how he can’t calm down because she was “snoring at me.” He stalked away from the car toward his bus and then suddenly turned back, because in his pissy-ness he’d picked up the tissue box I keep in the car (which is bright pink, btw)… stalked back to the car, opened the back door, threw the box in, and took off.

Meanwhile, back in paradise, we had a snow day after my last post. V’s friend, the Boss, came over again and the two of them shook the roof down. If I ever had my doubts about who makes more noise – girls or boys – I’m sure now. They wanted to play Xbox, which Opac will not share because he doesn’t trust them not to use up all his data or delete something important. I suggested they play on a different system, and of course there were no AA batteries in this house. I sent out a desperate plea to my neighbors, and was soon walking down the street to retrieve 4 AAs so these girls didn’t make me go completely insane.  Opac left the house to go to his friend’s up the street, and I told him it wasn’t fair that he was leaving me alone with these two. He was hardly sympathetic.

Todd had a bowling tournament on the 10th. I worked in the morning and came home to shower and change. I lost my footing in the shower and slipped, doing the Scooby shuffle before my left leg went completely out and my toes broke my fall on the frame of the sliding doors. I was sure I’d broken a toe and I was in this weird juxtaposition of hysterical laughter and pain. I couldn’t wear the shoes I’d planned to wear because now 3 of my toes were swollen and turning black and blue, and I couldn’t walk on them.

Then I burnt the back of my neck with the curling iron. I sat down on the couch to avoid further injury to myself, and texted my bestie to tell her I almost died and I wanted her to know, in case it happened again and I didn’t make it, that I loved her. I sent a similar text to my dad, who was hundreds of miles away in Kentucky (another post for another day) and he called me immediately and made me feel bad for worrying him as I laughed myself silly. I reminded him that if it were true, I certainly wouldn’t text him so casually.

And before you judge me harshly for fooling with my dad that way – when I told him what really happened, he laughed at me. Laughed. Obviously my sense of humor came from somewhere.

So two days later I was back at work because one of my coworkers got The Sick. Hers was the stomach variety and I briefly worried, since we’d worked together on Saturday, if it was coming for me too.

Well, dodged that bullet, but by the end of the day my head was swimming in congestion. I’ve had so many sinus infections I know one before it’s fully arrived, so I called for a doctor’s appointment. I waited for an hour and ten minutes before being called. The front desk people never acknowledged my wait and when I asked if I’d been forgotten, the lady said, oh – they must be running behind. I’d love to try that line on for size at my job, and see how long it takes a parent to spontaneously combust.

So the NP I saw checked me out with the door never fully closed… which I thought was odd and not private, but I hardly cared. I just wanted to go home. She left the room to call in my prescriptions and then I was on my way. Four hours later the pharmacy still had no record of my prescriptions, so I called the office. I was on hold, and then suddenly someone picked up and started talking really fast about Medicaid and so on. I had to interrupt to let her know I wasn’t who she thought I was, and then she asked me if I wasn’t calling about Mr. Peterson – hello! Huge HIPAA violation. This isn’t my first rodeo with this practice and this is just another in a long list of mistakes.

I was supposed to work at the restaurant on Valentine’s Day but was too sick to do it, and I had to work the next day so I needed the rest. Opac woke up that morning with a 102 fever and sore throat, so I gave him Motrin and care instructions and went to work. I checked in on him frequently and he mostly slept. When I got home I fixed a fast dinner, and then he and I drove to urgent care. His symptoms were different from mine, but he felt equally as awful.

I was worried about flu, like so many people are, but he had nothing going on in the chest. His left ear was inflamed and so the PA prescribed him antibiotics. We were there for 2 hours. The waiting room, when we arrived, was three-quarters full of sickly people, and the mask box was empty. When someone restocked, I grabbed two for us. Someone in triage was vomiting violently and the sound was echoing through the entire clinic, and my own stomach filled with dread. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.

In other news, Todd lost his glasses on an airplane and they were not found, both pets are spring-cleaning their digestive tracts, I’m drowning in dirty laundry and sleep deprived, there’s a missing drone in the neighborhood, and the car hasn’t been washed since November.

This week, things are on the upswing… the temps reached 78 yesterday and the Bible thumpers took advantage of the sunshine by dropping by my house. I got a hug from my mom and got some major scrapbooking done while bingeing Gran Hotel. There’s also the promise of some Walmart footage from Kentucky by way of Silverfox, who’s taking Bourbon County as we speak.

Where I’ve Been – Early February Edition

Blogged while stuck at home with the HVAC guy. I could’ve been working today….

We had a weather event on Sunday that bled into Monday morning, and schools did not have a delay… but they should have. But we’ll get to that in a minute because THE EAGLES WON THE SUPERBOWL.

It was quite a show, er – game – there was suspense, drama, no penalties called on the Patriots (because they never do anything wrong), some funny commercials, and some halftime show that had all the feeling of sex leading up to an orgasm that is never achieved, BUT… there was Prince. And I so did not expect that tribute because I live in oblivion most of the time even though the game was in Minneapolis, and while I’d like to point out that my hormones have been very stable of late – I sat there on the couch with tears running down my face. Even after the third quarter started. It was pathetic. And I wasn’t even drunk.

My brother went into the city because he’s still young and stupid and 6 feet and smart enough to want to be in the center of it all as it’s going down. A couple of friends said they wished they were there, and I reminded them of Baltimore’s win a few years ago when Todd and I thought we’d “just drive into the city and join the celebration.” It felt like we were extras in Apocalypse Now. People were getting kicked by police horses and helicopters were circling overhead. Crossed that one off my bucket list.

The restaurant-staff Christmas party was brunch on Sunday. We did the Pollyanna thing – which Todd kept pronouncing “polly-ahna” and which I kept telling him was not correct. This year wasn’t as cut-throat as years past, though I still think it was unfair to steal the 16-year-old’s lava lamp and give him wax burners (not naming names). I had two mimosas on an empty stomach. That was fun. And then Andy – who was sitting next to me –dropped a name on me to watch my facial expression change (my mom’s idea). Mom, rapidly approaching her 70s, seems to think she can get away with naughty shit and blame it on her age. If I had a dime for every time she said, “well, I’m old now.”

So anyway. Back to Monday morning, when V and I waited at the bus stop for FIFTY MINUTES. Opac rode to school with a friend, so he got to school on time. The high school bus, which usually comes before the middle school bus, came 40 minutes late. At the 50 mark I called the middle school and inquired about the bus and was informed that yes – it just arrived. Arrived? I said. How is that possible when we’re STILL waiting for it?

Obviously some of the roads were icy and some buses had difficulty. All I wanted to know was WHO’s in charge of communicating that the school bus has cut out part of the route? I still don’t know the answer to that one, but it was suggested to me for future reference – when I called to ask them why Veruca was marked absent yesterday – that I can call the transportation office. Oh, and if V has a cell phone, she could call me from her bus stop if she’s ever waiting too long. Um, WHAT?

The days have been filled with frustration lately. Opac was frustrated because he couldn’t find his deodorant this morning, which should come as no surprise if you could see his room, and V was pissed off about I-don’t-know-what and was generally slamming stuff around. Probably because she “can’t find anything to wear,” and didn’t like my suggestion that perhaps “something to wear” was among the mountains of clothing strewn about her room.

Me, I’m still irritated that our insurance sent me a letter of denial for V’s test strips. I called, ready to rip someone a new asshole, and turns out all that was needed was a prior auth from our provider. (Beginning of the “new year” insurances do this – FYI, for the unbaptized.) But the icing on the cake: later, a second letter came that said, “I am pleased to inform you that I have approved your request… blah blah blah.” Well, thank you and Fuck You.

Last week I missed two funerals because V got The Sick and was home for 3 days. Not that I actually look forward to attending these things, but I really wanted to be there for the two families. One was sudden and unexpected – a bacterial infection that shut down her organs and 10 days later she passed. A potent reminder of the fragility of life, and the importance of valuing every minute and loving your VIPs.

One of my resolutions is coming along nicely this year: I recently finished reading my fourth book since New Year’s… The Glass Castle. Which was every bit as good as everyone said it was, even if I wanted to strangle the parents several times over. I was thinking that both kids should read it since neither of them have any appreciation for all that they have or the fact that they have food on the table that they sometimes dislike. Todd said* it wouldn’t have the impact on them that it had on me.

Opac slept over at a friend’s house Friday night and I was sick with the doom-and-gloom anxiety until well after I got home from work. This was the first time ever that he slept at a friend’s house. Can you believe that? And not because of me. Kids these days just don’t DO things the way we did. Nevertheless, I need to find a way to not envision the worst when it comes to my kids.

Miscellaneous revelations:

You can’t please everyone. Not everyone has the same taste in food, or appreciation for what is considered quality, or understands that healthcare facilities have rules and protocol.

Perianal strep. This is real. Never heard of it? Neither had I. And, NO – before you start thinking it, no one in my household has it. I don’t know how you get it either. Hypochondriacs better get googling.

If you park near the beach with a clear glass sunroof, you can hold French fries up to the glass and watch the seagulls lose their shit. And NO – we didn’t do this, before you animal rights people lose your shit.

Hit men don’t drive red corvettes. Obviously.

If I hold the hairdryer at just the right angle, I can look like Medusa.

*Todd says a lot of things. A friend replied to my comment [“that’s what Todd said”] by asking if that’s like saying “that’s what she said.” I like it. Maybe I’ll create a subseries called That’s What Todd Said.